Of Loss and Madness RE: A RDNA verse AU Tale
by mdc1957
Summary: In another world, in another time, the Free World is still coming to terms with the haunting chaos of the Terror. For New Austria and Canada, the battlefields of England meant confronting their worst enemies, their inner demons...and each other. An updated, revisited tale from the RDNA-verse AU. Caution for OCs, violent imagery and very suggestive scenes. UPDATED: Completed.
1. 1949: Dual Crowns

**Author's Notes** : Originally posted on DeviantArt, this is the first part of an _Axis Powers Hetalia_ fanfic set in the RDNA-verse, an AU created a while back. To be more precise, it's an updated, rewritten version of an old fic started nearly 5 years ago that was never finished, _Of Loss and Madness_.

As with the old unfinished fic, this one alternates between the Nations of Loyalist Canada/Matthew and New Austria/Francesca. All while following both the 1940s Liberation of Britain mentioned in the RDNA-verse's backstory and the dark road New Austria took in it, resulting in that country becoming a pariah. Coincidentally, the other part of the plot involves Canada reopening ties with his New Austrian ally in 1949, opening up some painful memories and elephants in the room for both of them.

So expect things to be dark, graphic at points and possibly intimate. Still, whatever happens, don't expect things to be _too_ dark and hopeless. I just hope that the new writing isn't so merciless.

All that being said, and just to be safe, this is a work of fiction. Neither do I own _Axis Powers_ _Hetalia_ ; all rights belong to Himaruya and respective owners.

With those out of the way, I hope you enjoy this rather dark look back in time, in another world...

* * *

 **Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' E** y **es**

(Chapter 1: Dual Crowns)

Montreal, Loyalist Dominion of Canada. 7 May 1949.

Not many people took the old Dual Crowns route. Once, the storied railroad line had symbolized the friendship between the British and Habsburg Empires. Now, there were those who thought of simply cutting off the connection at the last American station. Those who bought tickets these days were mainly on official business. One in particular was just delivered to an out of the way flat in Le Plateau-Mont-Royal. But at the moment, it was being waved frantically in front of its recipient by his twin brother. All to his eternal annoyance.

"You're really going there, Mattie? Look, I know you've got the envoy excuse. But _seriously?!_ "

The host, one Matthew Williams, let out a quiet sigh as he stood up from his couch, glaring at his erstwhile sibling. "It's fine, Alfred. How many times do I have to say it, eh? There's nothing special."

"Bringing your bosses and a bunch of officers over ain't a simple trip, you know. Just call in sick or something." The American Federation's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "This ain't gonna change anything either, I bet. Besides, you haven't been Kraut-side in years. No one has! Even if you all insist on pushing with this crazy plan, it's not like New Vienna's the safest place in the world."

"Heh. It's not like _they'll_ notice me, eh?" He gave a soft, knowing chuckle. "But let's face it, Al. We both know why it has to be done. And the Commonwealth would benefit from it." _Just don't play dumb with me._

"Yeah, I get it," Alfred retorted. "The fifth anniversary of V-B Day's coming up. Don't think I've forgotten _everything_ about the Liberation."

Matthew knew him too well to not even bother, no matter how well he read the atmosphere. _No point anyway. He got off light._ In any case, neither of them, nor the rest of their kind could remove those events from their memories. They were there after all, five years ago. Fighting and freeing Britain from the Collectivists, all in the name of the British Imperial Commonwealth and the Free World. The Canadian himself bore the scars of his soldiers, the sights of the ravaged English countryside still fresh in his mind. None of them took any real pleasure in the worse parts of it. _Except her._ His thoughts quickly snapped back.

"Neither did I, brother. It's not that my leaders are dying to make the trip. But if this were up to me, this could have been handled much sooner."

"Ever the trusting one, Mattie. Though I think you're just in denial about Francesca," the embodiment grunted with a suspicious twitch. "Look, don't take this the wrong way, but whatever happens Kraut-side, I've got your back. I'm the hero, after all!"

"Don't you have some Russians in Alaska to look after?"

"Fine. I gotta get going anyway, the American shrugged as he gave a slight, though forced smile before turning his back for the door with a wave on his hand. "See ya around, Mattie. Just tell that Kraut I said 'Hi.'"

Sure that his footsteps were no longer heard, Loyalist Canada made his way to the kitchen. As was his routine, he took out some food for his bear cub, the pet nudging ever so slightly on the plate placed before her. There was more than enough time later, after all, for packing suitcases. Yet Matthew couldn't put his mind fully at ease. _Then again, it hasn't been for a while._ He needed no reminder that over 20 years had passed since the Terror, which consumed so much of the world died down. Millions were dead, the remaining Free Nations in the midst of a long standoff with the menace beyond the Red Curtain. Still, for all the turmoil and suffering he and the others, he wanted so much to believe that the worst was over. That this brave new, and insane world could be undone. That the one close friend he had in the New World wasn't the monster others paint her as.

 _Makes me wonder what New Austria must be feeling right now, eh?_ Matthew smirked bitterly to himself as he walked towards his little bear, the daylight outside beginning to fade. He sighed for a moment as he recalled the name he chose for her. It was from woman he fell in love with a long time ago. Whose people found sanctuary in his land even as she died with her homeland when the Terror came for them. Even now, a part of him wished it didn't all have to happen like this.

" _Mon Dieu_ ," he murmured. "What should I do now, Katya?"

* * *

For some trivia:

The Royal Dominion of New Austria is one of the major "Free Nations" in the RDNA-verse. Essentially, this is the result of the Austrian Habsburgs rather than the Spanish settling and raising up what our world would call Mexico. By the 2010s of the AU though, it's long since become home to the Habsburg Throne-in-Exile, their Austro-Hungarian homelands lost to the "Terror."

The British Imperial Commonwealth is what became of the British Empire and the Commonwealth in the RDNA-verse, and has been run by Loyalist Canada since 1945, when it became clear that power had firmly shifted away from the United Kingdom.

Le Plateau-Mont-Royal is an actual location in the heart of Montreal, Quebec, Canada. While like in our world, there are a sizable number of Ukrainians in the country as well as close cultural ties, though due to historical differences and the Terror, the circumstances are far more painful.

Which also explain in part the "bittersweet" triumph that left the UK in shambles as well as why the British remain rather upset with their New Austrian "allies." Which will be explained soon enough...up close.

The preview image is from chaneljay, aka Marj's original fanwork _The Other Side of Me_ on DeviantArt, which is about New Austria/Francesca herself. All credit and thanks go to her. Also, feel free to check her gallery there.

And yes, the American Federation is this AU's version of the United States. Who still couldn't quite read the atmosphere.


	2. 1943: Ruled Britannia

**Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' E** y **es**

(Chapter 2: Ruled Britannia)

Devon countryside, England, United Kingdom. 19 November 1943.

"I say we take caution moving forward," Matthew's voice suggested through the private radio. "My commanders and our allies believe that the enemy's leaving more holes in its retreat, though I wouldn't put it against those maniacs to leave a few traps behind. I take your intelligence got the same conclusion."

"They have," Francesca C. Edelstein-Hedervary replied on the receiver with a warm if professional flair. "Still, while I agree, now is not the time to show restraint. Still, while I agree, now is not the time to show restraint. The sooner these Reds are thrown out of here, the sooner we can bring the Terror to a final end. And – and…" There was a brief pause, however, as she shook her head, straining to keep her voice level. "…My apologies. But you can count on New Austria's finest to carry this day."

"I'll take you up on that, eh?" the Canadian chuckled before sliding to a more concerned tone. "Just – be careful out there."

 _I should stop doing that._ Despite the near-mishap, the Nation allowed herself a faint smile even as she adjusted the collar on her cavalry officer's uniform. "Of course. _Bitte_ , just save me some of the glory, Matthew."

As she put the receiver down, however, she felt an uncomfortable sensation threatening to overwhelm her. Still, with some effort, she shrugged it off and took a moment to compose herself. With each passing week, these instances were getting worse. _Must be the exhaustion. Gott...I can't afford to show weakness now. Blood must be spilled...Nein, I can't..._

"Are you alright, _Fraulein?_ "

Francesca snapped out of her reverie to find one of her officers approaching her. She recognized him as Col. Janos Mihaly of the 1st Hungarian Rifles, the latest in a long line of aides to her and her 'late' parents. "I'm fine, _Ezredes_ ," she replied in Hungarian with a measured nod. "I suppose it's just the exhaustion from battle. But this war won't end itself, after all. What is the situation now?"

He cleared his throat as they exited the radio tent and into the open air of the encampment. "The stalemate's broken. Our enemies are losing heart as we speak."

Before both of them, past their fellow New Austrians, craters and trenches laid the smoking husk of Honiton as the few remaining Red stragglers flee into the horizon. The once quaint English town, what remained it at least, had been inexplicably abandoned by the enemy along with others in the area, apparently to regroup further east. Compared to the frantic firefights of the previous weeks, it really seemed as though the Collectivist Internationale and its slaves were at long last letting up; some were even beginning to think that the campaign would actually be over by Christmas. Yet even as her commanders and soldiers advance across the English countryside it also seemed _too_ convenient. _Nein, I can't show weakness now!_

" We can move in at any time, _Fraulein_ ," the aide whispered. "The men await the order."

"l see, but..."

The female Nation's eyes glanced at those around her, at once sensing the discipline, anxiety and anticipation of her own countrymen – Deutsch, Magyar, Czech, Mezoamerikaner, New Austrians one and all. She knew as well that the other commanders were making similar moves. _Then again, there's only one way to be sure. Ja...It shall be magnificent..._

"Go ahead, _Ezredes_. We have some Englishmen to free."

" _Jawohl, meine Fraulein._ "

After returning salutes, she took to her horse and joined the rest of her soldiers. Francesca could already see some of the other units advancing ahead of her. Mustering her best face, feeling the familiar tinge of bravado course through her despite the fatigue, she rode ahead to the front. There was no time for speeches. _It's now or never._

"Onward!" she shouted. "For God, Liege and Country!"

For what seemed a moment, the scene looked right out of old painting. _Like Papa's old stories_ , she thought wistfully. Flags flying proudly. The sounds of horses and tanks meshed with a symphony of rallying cries while the air roared from the distance with the sound of planes and dirigibles. All moved relentlessly, knowing that each inch of land freed was payback against the Reds. And she was on the winning side. Before long, the town was right in front of her. Victory seemed assured.

Then the explosions came. Around her, the men found themselves in complete shock as ambushers started streaming out of the town. Desperately, she fired blindly with her pistol, struggling to stay focused. Amidst the screams, she could hear – and feel – the dying gasps of her men, all falling one by one to her mounting horror. From the horizon, she could make out the all too familiar banners, screams and massed swarms of the Internationale's minions. _Gott. We were set up…Nein…NEIN…_

"Fall back!" she shouted even she kept firing her weapon. " _Bitte_ , for the love of God, DON'T DIE!" She looked on in immense pain and horror as her moment of triumph cost her even more grief. A sudden explosion soon threw all other thoughts aside as she fell off the horse, onto the bloodied ground.

Then she felt nothing.

* * *

 _Ezgeres_ is Hungarian for Colonel.

The town of Honiton is a real market town located in Devon, England, some 17 miles north of Exeter.

The references to the "Invasion" and "Liberation" of Britain in 1942-44 meanwhile can be found on DeviantArt. Which also explain in part the "bittersweet" triumph that left the UK in shambles as well as why the British remain rather upset with their New Austrian "allies." Which will be explained soon enough...up close.

As for those who participated in the Liberation of Britain, the Canadians, New Austrians, Americans and Gran Patagonians were the prominent powers who aided the U.K., the former two being the most involved.

And yes, New Austria's adoptive parents are who you think they are: A certain Austrian aristocrat and a free-spirited Magyar...


	3. 1949: Crossing the Frontier

**Author's Notes:** Originally, the chapter was based on a somewhat later part in the old, unfinished fic. But after combining it with another similar draft while cutting out the filler and building on the atmosphere, the end result is at once rather different and somewhat recognizable for those who read the old tale back in 2010-11. Still, I hope the outcome's far better than before.

* * *

 **Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' E** y **es**

(Chapter 3: Crossing the Frontier)

Near the Texias-New Voralburg border crossing, American Federation. 9 May 1949.

As Matthew Williams, he found the attempt to keep the train low profile laughable; the staged stops and Federal agents in their conspicuously dark, nigh uniform suits and hats weren't fooling anyone. As Loyalist Canada however, he still felt grateful that his republican brother went through the trouble of ensuring the Dual Crown line's safety. _At least it frees up my own agents, eh?_ Yet neither his officials nor the Americans on-board could distract his mind enough from his thoughts. _I wonder how you would think of all this…_

 _"_ Attention all passengers," he heard the conductor announce over the train speakers in an Ukrainian-tinged Maritimes accent. "We will be crossing into New Austria in a few minutes. Please cooperate with the border guards for the duration of the procedure. Thank you for your patience."

Whether or not Loyalist Canada listened, he knew it wasn't necessary; the signs were already visible past his window. The familiar American towns, factories and farmsteads had since given way to something more fitting to the forgotten Alps or _Mitteleuropa_ than the New World. Long after the frontiers had settled down between the New Austrians and American Federation, at least this region still bore traces of its more peculiar past; not even the locals seemed to speak entirely in English as far as he knew. _At least she'd be happy to know that much._ Yet despite himself, he couldn't truly mask his anxiety; he hadn't been able to for a while. _Then again, the alternative's worse._

"Lost in thought, aren't we?" Matthew looked back to find King Alexander approaching his seat. Donning a simple if well-tailored suit, the moustached Windsor-Romanov spoke with the King's English much like his British predecessors. Still, there was enough that betrayed traces of his Russian heritage.

"Your Majesty?" he feigned. "It-it's nothing worrisome. I just have a few things on my mind."

"As do most people, I imagine," the monarch mused. "Though I suspect it's not to do with our American friends onboard. As helpful as _those_ blokes are in keeping our profile discreet."

Despite himself, Matthew smirked. "It still is an enigma how those people have lasted this long since their independence. But for all their bravado, it's not those republicans that I am concerned with."

"It's about Ms. Edelstein-Hedervary, isn't it, Mr. Williams?"

Surprised yet unable to hide his apprehension, the Nation nodded. "That's true, Alexei."

The sovereign of the British Imperial Commonwealth smiled somberly for a moment, before taking a seat across from the Canadian; few people these days called the monarch by his birth name. "Sometimes I still wish father - the late Tsar, I mean, didn't have to die. May the Almighty give him and my loved ones rest. But like the fall of my motherland, we can't stop what's already happened, I'm afraid. The New Austrians must surely know the weight of what they did. It wasn't with glee or pride that _we_ did what we had to do."

"Of course, I agree. That's why we're going there to make things normal again. She's still my friend-"

"But you aren't so sure whether this is necessary at all, _da_?" King Alexander finished. "I know. But surely, this cannot go on forever. The Throne-in-Exile and its peoples have suffered enough for their sins."

Matthew chuckled wearily. "That's one way to put it, eh?" _Not after what we - no, I had to do to her._ Since the "victory" won in the Liberation back in '44, the Free Nations at large agreed to enact trade embargoes, demand concessions, close embassies and even promote smear campaigns as the Americans and Gran Patagonians had done. Thus, while some hardy souls were still permitted to enter as visitors, New Austria was a pariah in all but name. Sighing, the Nation glanced briefly outside as the train slowly passed through a series of barbed wire fences and watchtowers before at last grounding to a halt at an empty border station; the signage outside was in German. _Even we - I had to agree. What happened back there..._

"It must have pained you, having to be forced doing what was necessary," the middle-aged King continued with a solemn, knowing frown. "Even though we were both there in England, I could only imagine the burden your kind carries with each new wound. But then again, _none_ of us escaped unaffected. All that's left is to mend scars."

"And stay sane," Loyalist Canada murmured. "With all respect, Alexei, I'm in no mood for discussing recent history." No one needed to hear the details in all their blood-stained horror any more than was necessary. Not the Terror, his own turmoil afterwards or the Liberation. He remembered it all with perfect clarity. _There's no point escaping it._

" _Da,_ " King Alexander sighed before turning to the window, the lights outside and the slight railroad jolts casting shadows on his face. "In any case, we'll be in the heart of New Austria before long. What happens after _that_ is an open question. Perhaps it's wise then to save your strength for the coming days."

 _And for dealing with her._ The Nation nodded in agreement before shrugging. "I wonder what would come from this, eh?"

It wasn't long however before he noticed a handful of guards entering the car, all of them New Austrian. Matthew watched as they quietly saluted and went about their routines. One was a light-tanned mixed-blood, characteristic of many in the Habsburg realm. The others more clearly resembled nationalities that no longer existed. All of them, despite their crisp, grey service uniforms, looked barely older than his physical self. Through their cordial, disciplined facade however, the guards showed the same stiffness, awkwardness, reluctance and unease. _Even regret. I guess the feeling's neutral, eh, Francesca?_

He wondered briefly whether to talk to one of them. But as the train continued to speed up, Canada finally closed his eyes. Soon enough, he found himself back in the sight of sunflower fields. For a moment, he sensed a distant yet feminine voice calling out. Turning around, there was a glimpse of a familiar silhouette of a Ukrainian he once knew before a rift tore open. Followed by the sounds of shells, screams and inhumane shrieking. If there was any crying heard, the Nation tried to shut it out.

Those voices died out a long time ago. The Nation knew all too well, or at least as much as he was willing to believe. But this wasn't the time to succumb like his New Austrian friend had. Not now, not ever.

 _Katya…Forgive me. I hope this is the right thing to do._

* * *

As for some trivia:

Texias-New Voralburg is a New Austrian province that, as the name suggests incorporates much of what is Texas in real life. Its name in particular comes from an alternative native spelling from which "Texas" was derived. As another bit of extra info, real life Texas is also home to a sizable population of German-Americans whose ancestors arrived in the late 19th Century, with a number of German-speaking communities still existing.

The ruling monarch in particular c. 1940s, King Alexander is the first of the Windsor-Romanov line and as Tsarenovich Alexei, son of the last Tsar of Russia, who perished with the Russian Empire in the Terror.


	4. 1944: Into the Abyss

**Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' Eyes**

(Chapter 4: Into the Abyss)

Vicinity of New Sarum, England, United Kingdom. 13 February 1944.

Much of the old city was in flames by the time the R.D.N.A.'s soldiers freed it from Collectivist militias. From the field close to the ancient stones of what had been Salisbury Cathedral, Francesca saw the bloodied and burnt wreckage left behind by the retreating Reds. While further in the distance, the sound of gunfire and explosions continued to echo. Whether the town itself could still be considered "intact" was of little significance; so long as the shells struck home, that was already enough. For a brief moment, a cold smile crossed her face.

 _No quarter…Ja, no quarter! Leave them not_ _hing!_

 _Nein! This isn't what we came_ _here for!  
_  
Stunned for a moment, the Nation shook her head and tried to compose herself. While she was no stranger to violence or the battlefield, this felt different and such moments were becoming more frequent with each passing week. Nonetheless, after hours of intense fighting she and her men at least finally earned the honor of having taken the Reds' main stronghold in the region. And with that, provided enough breathing room for her American, Gran Patagonian and Commonwealth allies to reach the besieged capital of London. True there were setbacks and sacrifices aplenty in a conflict what should have ended before Christmas. But even as victory inched closer, the turmoil within continued to simmer. _But I can't s_ _how weakness now. I can't!_

It was then that she heard a growing commotion coming from behind her. Turning around with a hint of irritation visible on her face, New Austria found Col. Mihaly walking ahead of a group of exhausted infantrymen, their sharp if weathered dark-grey uniforms having long taken the place of the traditional blue and light-grey ones associated with the Habsburg realms. It was another reminder that the days of the Austro-Hungarian Crownlands - and the world they lived in were moving farther away into the fog of history. _From me._ _Mama...Papa..._ _Nein, focus, Verdammt!_ Straining to keep herself in control, she noticed that they brought forward a small group of bound captives; they seemed like locals judging from their ragged attire, though one could never be too certain in this day and age.

" _Fraulein,"_ the Magyar aide reported after saluting. "We found these individuals over at the tenements north of here. They claimed they were trying to hide from the fighting."

"Really, Janos? Quite a coincidence." She turned to one of the older captives, an old man in a grimy walking suit and flat cap. Only to be spit on.

"You bloody maniac!" the old Englishman hissed. "Expecting us to be _grateful_ for freeing this town?"

 _Is that a challenge?!_ Without flinching, Francesca glanced for a moment at the Habsburg Eagle raised atop the Protestant cathedral's spire without flinching before speaking in cold, accented English. "You ought to be, having just saved your God-forsaken village from those Reds. But you should have heeded our warnings and gotten out of here."

"Like we had bloody time to leave," he retorted, never keeping his glare off her. "After all, we've seen what your half-breed Krauts did here. Blowing up our homes and gunning lads down like louts isn't what _anyone_ would call valour! You think the rest of us don't know of this farce being passed as _liberation_?! We were supposed to be comrades in arms, not violated spectators! But who am I to judge before some spoiled, aristocratic tart who-"

"Enough! What do you know of being violated? What do you care of what my people have lost? _Scheiße_ , you and your pathetic friends are testing our patience as is." _Don't dare pus_ _h me! I beg you!_ With each word, her tone became a strained sneer. In a forced motion, she then glanced back at her startled aide. " _Bitte_ , tell me. What was it that your men found up there?"

" _Fraulein,_ are you sure this is necessary? These are only a bunch of townsfolk. Neither the Commonwealth nor our other allies would approve of elimi-"

"We'll be doing them a _favor_! As far as they're concerned, these are casualties. Nothing more," she snapped before sliding into Hungarian. " _M_ _ég egyszer_ , what did they find, _Ezgeres_?"

"A-A Red propaganda center," Col. Mihaly said hesitatingly. "They found some documents mentioning plans on London, dispatches from the Continent, even some looted relics from the Crownlands. I recommend we inform the British and Canadians..."

By that point however, Francesca stopped listening. Indeed, that was all that needed to be said before now-familiar urges once more threatened to overwhelm her. Trying in vain to shut off the clouding turmoil, a part of the Nation still strained to keep herself in control. But if anything at all remained clear, it was that resisting those urges was a fruitless exercise. It didn't stop the Collectivist Internationale from attempting to get rid of her. Nor did it help when the Terror at long last took the lives of her parents years ago, all as if it just happened yesterday. _And I couldn't save them...the sooner I accept that, they...we will all be avenged!_

" _Fraulein_ ," she heard the aide ask with mounting concern. "Is something the matter?"

All that showed on Francesca's face was a manic grin. All semblance of restraint seemed to fade as her voice cracked. "Nothing at all. But we've come too far to give pity now, even if all England burns. A _dead_ Red is better than a live one. _Is that clear, Ezgeres?_ "

No sooner had he stepped aside that she cast off the cloak of her cavalry officer's uniform and unsheathed her ceremonial dagger; the blade's _Mesoamerikaner_ engravings and _Mitteleuropan_ craftsmanship seemed impatient to meet the enemy's blood. Whether the locals really were who they claimed to be, it was of no importance who or what stood in New Austria's path. _Not anymore._ The Collectivist taint was to be cleansed from this earth. _Ja. T_ _hat much is...wait..._ But as she calmly walked towards the captives, however she suddenly paused. Almost as though some part of her still resisted, even while her mind screamed.

 _Gott, what am I doing? I should be stopping...Nein..._

NEIN! I won't let them win! I've killed foes before...This is nothing different!

 _T_ _h_ _is isn't rig_ _ht!_ _Nothing will come from this!_

 _But those madmen...They won't take me..._

 _Ja...Take back everything we've lost...Never again!_

 _Eye for an Eye ...Must avenge, kill them all!_

 _Make them pay! MAKE THEM PAY!_

"This is madness!" the old Englishman gasped to his growing horror as New Austria coldly gripped his shoulders, her dagger poised to strike. "Kill me if you must, you bloody whore. It shan't end this war or the Will!"

The mocking voice coming from her mouth seemed sensual, almost feral as though some suppressed aspect of the Nation had been stirred from its slumber. Perhaps that dark self had always been there inside her and the rest of her kind. Waiting.

"It doesn't matter, _mein freund._ Want to see what the Terror was _really_ like? _DO YOU?!_ "

The first traces of blood spattered on her face, her uniform tunic slowly turning red before long. None of the soldiers tried to stop her from the moment it started, not even her aide. Some even joined her, their rifles pointed directly on the other captives' heads. If Francesca had second thoughts, as the sound of screams and gunfire once more filled the English air, she never sensed them. The ruined cathedral's clock, hidden beneath the weathered New Austrian banner might well be tolling and she wouldn't have cared. But if this was what it meant to exact retribution and end the Terror, so be it.

Then again, it was war after all. The cold, nigh feral grin remained.

" _Sehr gut~_ " _But there's so much more left to do._

* * *

For some trivia:

Reflecting the changing times, New Austrian service uniforms are transitioning from being reminiscent of World War I Austro-Hungarian attire to incorporating influences reminiscent of the World War II Axis Powers. Traditionally, blue and white/grey were the colors associated with the Habsburg armies.

 _Ezgeres_ is Hungarian for Colonel. Likewise, _Még egyszer_ means "Once more."

 _Sehr gut_ is German for "Very good."

New Sarum is the old traditional name for the real life city of Salisbury, England. In real life, New Sarum was formally rechristened Salisbury only in 2009, though the medieval Salisbury Cathedral situated there has been named such since its completion in AD 1320. The Cathedral is also known for housing both the oldest working clock in the world (since 1386) and surviving original copies of the Magna Carta.


	5. 1949: Mending Hearts

**Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' Eyes**

(Chapter 5: Mending Hearts)

Neu Wien, Royal Dominion of New Austria. 10 May 1949.

" _Grüß Gott._ _Willkommen in Neu Wien_ ," the tinned recording intoned over the loudspeakers, repeating the same lines in the other tongues of New Austria before continuing in impeccable, if accented English."For foreign visitors not yet cleared, please proceed to the Customs Bureau or the nearest Information Desk. _Danke schön_ , and enjoy your stay..."

 _I hope I do. End of the line, after all._ Loyalist Canada shrugged as he stepped out of the train car and into the end Dual Crowns route: _Neu Wiener Hauptbahnhof,_ the smoke wisps on the station platform still visible. _And right in the heart of the capitol. Of her._ Past the ornate steel columns and tracks seemingly left over from another time, journalists and photographers from the local press were already beginning to notice King Alexander and the other delegates. It was just a matter of time before the open secret regarding the diplomatic mission would become public knowledge across the Free World. S _o much for being discreet, eh?_ Still, Matthew took a moment to sigh. _Not that they would notice me, anyway._

Adjusting his necktie and glasses, the blond Canadian started making his way through the crowds alongside his monarch and delegates, luggage in tow. To his right, not far from a pair of engineers making their rounds was a group of old ladies walking to another platform, their skirts trailing the ground as was the fashion for women before the Terror. All the while people from various walks of New Austrian society went about their day. Whether it was workers rushing to their jobs, children about to visit relatives or nobles attending to some private matters, it seemed at once familiar and disconcerting for the Nation even as those same people looked at him with grim, worried faces. For all their tarnished reputation, he still found it difficult to reconcile them with what had to be done for the sake of the other Free Nations. _To think these people, their loved ones...she_ _went so far beyond the pale.  
_  
"I guess there's no welcome from you, eh?" he murmured to himself, half-expecting to find Francesca among the crowd.

Not so long ago, she would have greeted him herself, waving gracefully in a flowing summer dress. She'd even go so far as to give him a tour around her realm, if circumstances allowed. The last time that happened though was just before the Collectivists launched their ill-fated Invasion of Britain. But even before that, long before the Terror ravaged the world, he knew New Austria as a kindred spirit and great power. _A good friend._ From their colonial pasts, their monarchs and peoples have helped each other over the generations. And just as his ties with her grew, so did their bonds. _Even Katya didn't mind chatting with her over tea at all. If not for.._.

The smile that formed on Matthew's lips soon faded upon realizing that he had been lost in his memories again. It was another reminder that those times were over _. But still, it might be so again._ Sighing, he continued walking towards the North Entrance. Above the ornate doors and encompassing much of the station's ceiling was a large mosaic. A map from another age, showing the old railway, dirigible and airplane routes that spanned the Habsburg lands on both sides of the Atlantic. The Nation remembered when it was first unveiled decades earlier, the colors and lines as vibrant as when they were first conceived.

Only then did he realize that there were cracks and poster-laden scaffolding where the portions representing the Austro-Hungarian Crownlands were supposed to be.

" _Mon Dieu_ ," he mumbled under his breath. "We're supposed to be better than this!" _This should never have happened. Even after all this time._

"It seems the Danube still refuses to pass on," King Alexander replied to the Canadian's unvoiced musings, a melancholy frown lining his mustached face as he glanced at the mosaic. "Though I must commend these New Austrians for keeping their honour, Mr. Williams. As much as that moment of madness was brought upon themselves."

The Nation smirked bitterly. "We both know these people don't deserve the slander. But what's done is done, eh? No one else is in any hurry to forgive them - and her, Alexei."

"Except us, of course," he retorted before smiling. "And you."

Despite himself, a somber smile crossed Canada's lips before shaking his head. For as much as he looked forward to seeing Francesca again, another part of him was still bitter over her part in the Liberation and his own role in those events. He tried thinking of the meetings, backroom politics and formal galas that would come over the next days. But he was soon reminded of London. The destruction of Buckingham Palace. The bloodshed. The horrific infighting. _The look on her face. Non, non. That can't be you, Francesca!_

Leaving the station and into the chilly air of New Vienna, the Commonwealth delegates made their way towards a pair of dark diplomatic sedans parked on the side, with Matthew and his King taking the least conspicuous of the lot. To their consolation, the local soldiers and guards tasked with protecting them behaved with the utmost professionalism. But as he was about to enter the vehicle, he noticed a peculiar, dark-haired young woman at the corner wearing a local _Reichspolizei_ uniform. The Canadian was no stranger to the trend of females increasingly entering the ranks of the police and even active military service. But while her face seemed obscured by both sunlight and her field cap, for a split-second, he caught a glimpse of her blue piercing eyes.

 _Non. Wait. Wait!_

Before Matthew managed to utter a word however, the woman turned away and slipped into the crowd.

"Mr. Williams?" he heard his monarch call out, a hint of Russian in the man's voice. "We can't afford to keep our hosts waiting."

Sighing, the Nation stepped into the vehicle. "Of course. I just mistook a pedestrian for someone I know."

As he peered out the windows however, his thoughts went back to that woman. _Katya, I wish you're here._ Still, he managed a faint smile before closing his eyes. Perhaps, he mused, she must be feeling the same way. _Only one way to be sure now._

"Great to see you too, Francesca."

* * *

For some trivia:

A map showing New Austria during (more or less) this time period can be found on DeviantArt.

 _Grüß Gott_ is a traditional and formal greeting that is used in real life Austria and parts of southern Germany (Bavaria, Swabia, Franconia). In Standard German, it would be _Guten Tag_.

 _Hauptbahnhof_ is German for "Main (Railway) Station."

 _Reic_ _hspolizei_ is likewise German for "Imperial Police."


	6. 1944: Crimson Ground

**Aut** **h** **or's Notes:** This part of the fic is more or less where the original version left off all those years ago. At this point, however, it's been rewritten to the point that it's all but entirely new now.

Likewise, I made a point to make the chapter somewhat twisted, disjointed and unhinged, to both fit the bleak tone of her arc and reflect how far gone she's become. At the same time, there are points wherein Francesca, if just for a moment gains clarity. Which makes what's to come worse. Blame this perhaps on watching too much of _Metal Gear_ or the bloodier _Gundam_ shows, but she's become...nuclear.

* * *

 **Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' Eyes**

(Chapter 6: Crimson Ground)

Outskirts of London, England, United Kingdom. 26 April 1944.

 _No one is getting away!_

Another bullet struck home as one more slave of the Collectivist Internationale crumpled beneath New Austria's horse. She was still able to make out an outstretched hand, though she wasn't sure if it still attached to anything. But a dead Red was still preferable to a live one, whether or not in one piece.

 _Nothing's too far so long as those monsters die!_

 _Nein! Just...stop it...stop..._

 _Ja. Stop for nothing~  
_  
A cold grin lined Francesca's face as she looked on the advancing New Austrian forces. Already, some of her soldiers, cavalrymen and Panzers were pushing ahead, gunning down their foes as they moved. While wreckage bearing the insignia of the Royal Air Force continued burning in a nearby pile of rubble. Then again, nothing much else remained of the district she was passing through, save for abandoned barricades and a tattered British flag. Whether or not those casualties were Red or otherwise, let alone whether her own people were responsible was of little significance. _Of course they'd turn on me. Useless!_

" _Fraulein_ ," Col. Mihaly reported haltingly as he approached her. "We have word that King Alexander and his family were able to leave for safety. Our scouts also report the Collectivists are retreating to the Channel on several fronts. Those besieging the city might well be the last organized force left, even if they decide to meet us in battle."

"What, pray tell is new, _Ezgeres_?" she frowned while reloading a pistol, her voice just barely restrained. The turmoil and screams as loud in her very being seemed as loud the ones overhead, fighter planes and bombers hunting each other over the darkened skies. "No matter. Order our men forward! We will cleanse London of these pests, down to the last brick if we must!"

"This cannot wait _,_ " he shot back with mounting frustration. "While our soldiers are more than capable of facing our foes, we need to pull back. _Now_ , and allow the Commonwealth and Canadians their glory. Lest our own allies find even _more_ reason to target us more than those Red fiends!"

 _Don't dare turn on me too!_ New Austria glared at her aide. "It's was _their_ loss, Janos. Those weaklings should have kept out of our way! Besides, many of England's own have already fallen to Collectivism. Surely most would agree that we're doing the Free World a great service in sending those corpses down the Thames! We will not give those scum the chance _they_ never gave us! Now _bitte_ , order the men! _Schnell_!"

" _Nem_." The man shook his head as he slid into Hungarian. "If I may speak freely, don't take this as treason. But some among us are becoming uncomfortable with these proceedings. We are _destroying_ ourselves in succumbing to the blindness! There's no _dignity_ in this, _Új Ausztria_! No more than the defilement done to our people, to _you_. _Isten szerelmére_ , on the honor of the Crownlands and the Edelstein-Hedervary name, I implore t-"

"Don't think you can escape guilt now. It's too late for that, _Ezgeres_ ," Francesca sneered as she briskly grabbed Col. Mihaly by his uniform's collar, lifting him up to her level. With each word her voice seemed to shift between the sensual and feral, even as she mused on whether to just crush the aide's neck right there and then. "We all have blood on our hands! _Mein Volk - én népem_ crave it! It is the nature of man, of Nations. And I shall sate it, take back everything we've lost! You feel it too, don't you? _DON'T YOU?!" THEY'RE ALREADY DEAD...They..._

 _...Mama...Papa...They wouldn't want this! Gott, I-I shouldn't.  
_  
At that moment, the Nation gasped in shock, her arm wavering. Then with a forced motion, she let go of the aide just as an explosion went off in the distance. Turning away, she looked down on the pistol she still held. More of her own people were dying in this blasted realm even as they took their killers down with them. While across the Atlantic, it seemed as if her supposed allies could desecrate her own land at any moment. _Just like those Reds. Let the world fear me then. Let my Will be..._

 _NEIN! I can't! STOP...I'm..._

 _I'm..._

 _...I'm..._

 _Just fine.  
_  
She started cackling, first as a faint whisper. Then a scream that seemed too off-sounding to have come from a person. Not that she thought in the slightest whether others heard it or that her eyes had taken on a more inhuman hue. Britain would have been wiped off the face of the earth, for all she cared. This was the truth she kept from herself. A chance her parents never had, to end this madness _her_ way. And reality had no time for valor. _All this for revenge. Ja. Let MY WILL BE DONE!  
_  
" _Fraulein_?" she heard her startled aide gasped, even without looking back. "It's not too late. We needn't be monsters."

" _Ezgeres_ ," she sneered without looking back. "I'm already one. _Vorwärts_!"

Without a second thought, Francesca pushed her steed forward, ahead of her soldiers and into the burning capital of the United Kingdom. It mattered not whether her men could catch up, let alone whose blood splattered on her clothing. Before long, the sounds of battle took on a new tone, with herself as the conductor and the might of New Austria as her orchestra. Each scream and gunshot splendid. Not even a sudden explosion from a grenade fazed her, even as the Nation was thrown to the ground.

 _Ja! JA! WONDERFUL!  
_  
Neither did the handful of men in grimy uniforms who soon surrounded her. Nor the smoldering sight of Westminster as she stood up.

Nor the a peculiar blond Englishman with thick brows who stepped forward, a revolver raised to her head.

"Do you think you're the only one who's bloody lost something?!"

 _So be it!_ She stared right at the Nation. "Not for long~"

* * *

For some trivia:

 _Mein Volk_ and _én népem_ both mean "My people" in German and Hungarian, respectively.

 _Isten szerelmére_ is Hungarian for "For God's sake."

 _Ezgeres_ is Hungarian for Colonel.

 _Vorwärts_ is German for "Forward!"

And lastly, a few shout-outs are made to _Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain._ Take a guess while lines those are.


	7. 1949: Sins of the Children

**Author's Notes:** From here on, this is either entirely new ground or otherwise based on old drafts. As the previous version of this back in 2010-11 never reached this point. Still, I hope the final result's worth it.

* * *

 **Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' Eyes**

(Chapter 7: Sins of the Children)

Vicinity of Neu Wien, Royal Dominion of New Austria. 17 May 1949.

The evening sky beyond the windows had just begun revealing its stars. But already, music from a bygone age was filling the large ballroom as the _crème de la crème_ of society mingled with each other and their Canadian guests. As Matthew Williams adjusted the Red Serge collar of his dress uniform, he had to admit. _Brahms is so fitting to this. It's just like old times, Katya._ While he was no stranger to galas and dinner parties, he appreciated how this realm still took pride in carrying on this tradition from the Old World. Taking a small sip of wine fresh from the vineyards of _Kalifornien_ , he smiled for a moment. It seemed those arguments and meetings were paying off after all.

 _And yet she's not here. Saint esprit de simonac, where is she?_

Excusing himself from his monarch, Loyalist Canada made his way through the well-lit hall. Itself built long before the ruling Crown permanently became the Throne-in-Exile, the ballroom and the Royal Residence holding it bore a deceptive air of simplicity that betrayed the kind of classical elegance the locals and monarchs were known for. And like the nearby capital of New Vienna, its walls spoke of a storied past, from New Austria's humble beginnings as a colony to an equal to the Austro-Hungarian Crownlands that once existed across the Atlantic. A past that continued to haunt this land even now. Even looking at the portraits made him uncomfortable as he set his glass aside. _Just keep focused..._

Instead, his attention focused on the people. Apart from his own delegates, he saw a cross-section of New Austria's best, noble and commoner alike. Not far, amidst a throng of well-wishers was the middle-aged Archduke Maximilian IV, a commanding presence in his white uniform and regal sash that was customary for the Habsburgs. There too were ladies and gentlemen dancing to the music. Decorated officers in their old-fashioned regalia. Politicians and honored exiles with ambitious dreams. _Mesoamerikaner_ aristocrats blending European finery with _tilmatli_ -inspired ornaments. Tanned Kuban merchants with their tuxedos and unique brand of Spanish. Even an aging doctor said to have treated someone close to the last _Kaiser_ of the Crownlands. Each one of them, for all their celebratory mood, seemed anxious about the future of their homeland's place in the world.

 _One wrong move, and...I don't even want to know._ "I suppose the feeling's mutual, eh?" he murmured under his breath. "Now where-"

"Is the _Fraulein_?" a graying man in old-fashioned hussar's attire finished in thickly accented English as he approached the Canadian to shake his hand. Returning the favor, Matthew recognized him as belonging to the 1st Hungarian Rifles. _And to her._

"A pleasure seeing you again, Col. Mihaly."

"Likewise. These are interesting times that we live in. And it is in our common interest to fact them together." The old aide glanced at the far end of the ballroom, however before leaning in to whisper. "It is improper to keep a lady waiting, Mr. Williams. All has been arranged and accounted for."

"Beg your pardon? I don't follow, sir."

There was a solemn smile from the Magyar. "Do not worry. Your people will understand your absence, as will mine."

Surprised, Canada managed a nod in thanks before turning away, almost dropping his glasses as he did so. It didn't take long however before he found a young woman in a ceremonial white uniform, its sharp design more reminiscent of the bygone armies of the Crownlands than the long dresses worn by the other ladies in attendance. The girl's dark-brown hair was held in a bun rather than flowing down, her face unreadable like her late Austrian father. Yet as much as the Canadian found it hard to ignore, her blue eyes, as if echoing her long-gone mother seemed warm, inviting. _Mon Dieu, it's almost beckoning me...Just keep together!_

"Shall we dance, _Herr_ Williams?" he heard New Austria ask cordially in impeccable if strained English as she offered her hand. "It has been a long time."

"Of course. It would be an honour." _So help me Katya._ Despite the jarring strangeness of it all, the Nation smiled as the two found themselves among the other pairs in the middle of the hall. All the while the orchestra kept playing, this time invoking a folk waltz he didn't quite recognize. That the tailored outfit she wore highlighted her more feminine assets didn't help matters. But not even that could distract him from the kerfuffle they were both in, let alone trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if what went down in the Liberation - and in London - never happened.

 _As if I didn't try to kill you, Francesca.  
_  
"I must admit," she whispered, a hint of concern in her voice despite feigning surprise. "I didn't expect this. Meeting you again so soon, I mean."

The Nation blushed slightly, looking away for a moment. "So did I, Francesca. But five years does go fast for our kind, eh?" Sighing, it was then that he realized that the two of them never had the chance to talk to each other since arriving here, not even during the various meetings. _Or outside the station._ "That day I arrived. You didn't have to hide yourself back there. Just tell me what's wrong."

"Look who's talking?" The New Austrian smirked bitterly even as her eyes seemed to moisten. "We _both_ have our reasons. But the sins of my people - my own sins are mine to bear. _Gott_ , after what's happened, you must think me as some deranged whore, a _disgrace_! And I won't blame you, the Commonwealth or anyone if that's true."

This stunned Canada more than anything, finding it hard to hold back his shock as a tear dropped on her uniform. In the generations that he had known Francesca, it was a rare sight for the Nation to see a strong New World power like her, someone that was his equal being so troubled, even fragile. Not since the Liberation. _Or the Terror. But I'm not so innocent either. And you helped me though that, too._ Thus with a gentle smile, he held her closer as the music reached his climax, their faces so close to each other. A part of him wondered briefly what England or those Americans might react if they ever learned. Another side of him thought of his beloved Ukraine, whether she would have approved of what he was doing at all.

"I wish I could just say that it's not your fault," he murmured as they twirled in tune to the melody. "But whatever happens, I'm not going to lose a friend. No more!"

"Matthew," New Austria gasped with a faint blush as the waltz finally ended. A soft smile lined her lips, to the Canadian's welcome relief. That much was enough, for now.

 _Forgive me, Katya. You'll understand...I hope.  
_  
But just as they were about to part, he felt Francesca's hands tightening around his. Silently moving away from the crowds and slipping out of the ballroom into the empty hallways, he noticed a faint redness still on her face as she whispered to his ear.

" _Bitte_ , can you stay the night?"

* * *

As for some trivia:

The "Red Serge" is a Canadian equivalent of the British "Redcoat" more or less, and is associated with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in real life. More commonly known as the Mounties.

 _Saint esprit de simonac_ is a set of mild Quebecois French swears that are roughly the equivalent of "Damn" or "Heck." This is in sharp contrast to the much harsher _Tabarnak_ , considered the quintessential Quebecois _sacre_.

The _tilmatli_ worn by the _Mesoamerikaner_ aristocrats is a cloak-like garment worn by the Aztecs and other Mesoamerican peoples before colonization. In real life, its legacy endures in the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City.

New Austria/Francesca's attire in in essence a roughly Victorian/World War I officer's uniform tailored for women worn in Europe around that period.

The old doctor is a direct reference to the first RDNA-verse fic made, _The Personal Records of a Doctor_. Set in 1934, it follows Francesca in the immediate years after the Terror through the eyes of a human doctor.


	8. 1944: A Shattered Crown

**Author's Notes:** Suffice to say, this is a rather brutal and bloodily violent part. Which is also reflected in both the narration and Francesca's state of mind, which are...a tad unhinged on purpose, given how it's coming from her perspective. Which makes the reveal of who ultimately "killed" her to end the torment all the more painful. And let me warn you again: this is bloody and violent...as well as a bit depressing and painful to write. Still, I hope it worked out!

* * *

 **Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' Eyes**

(Chapter 8: A Shattered Crown)

Westminster, London, England, United Kingdom. 26 April 1944.

"Do you think you're the only one who's bloody lost something?!"

 _So be it!_ "Not for long~"

New Austria grinned as she stared at the Englishman in front of her, a service revolver aimed at her own head. That the man known as Arthur Kirkland had her surrounded with weary soldiers armed with rifles and bayonets didn't bother the Nation in the slightest. _Like those can hurt me!_ Neither did the fact that most of those pitiful souls seemed to be from the finest regiments of the British Imperial Commonwealth. Then again, she always craved a challenge.

" _Quite_ true. I hope your madness is sated by now," the United Kingdom frowned before turning to the uniformed officer beside him. "Captain Smith, you and your men may fire when ready! Show this madwoman _true_ valour."

That was all the Nation needed to hear. Before anyone could pull the trigger however, she lunged right at a pair of khaki-clad Tommies, pistol and knife on hand. As the blade struck one down, she fired on the other soldier, a look of complete shock on the man's face as the bullet entered his skull. It took little more than a split-second to take their lives. Just enough time, nonetheless for the rest of her foes to take aim and fire. But the sensation of blood splattering on her already ragged uniform with each hit did little more than arouse her. Each crack of their guns a prelude to a symphony she was about to conduct.

 _Ja. JA!_

 _And you're next!_

Shrugging their shots, Francesca turned unloaded every last round she had on whoever stood in front of her. Tossing aside her now-useless pistol she leaped onto another pitiful soul, managing to hear his frantic pleading in what sounded like French before snapping his neck. Soon enough, she nimbly dodged an attempt from behind by a pair of charging Scotsmen, the weathered kilts they wore with their uniforms as fierce as the bayonets fixed on their rifles. Still the nigh feral cackling from her lips remained, one that seemed too off be human even as she managed to cross blades and grab one of their guns. Whoever she couldn't fire, she simply pierced through. It was all the same to her.

While in the distance, past the hollowed out Parliament buildings, she caught glimpses of her armies marching through the ruined heart of London, her Panzers casting reflections upon the Thames. All this, as the screams of her foes filled the air. It didn't matter in particular who her men were killing. All that mattered was that they did, much as with the corpses she kept stabbing. _That you're seeing this, Arthur~_ She had killed before, been killed and fought many battles in her life. But this one was so satisfying. So _primal_.

And the Nation relished it. This was the truth of it all. Nations bred to fight. Men sent to die. _We're all going straight to hell. And I'll take those monsters with me!_ There were no doubts as she turned towards the United Kingdom himself, the Englishman as pale as he was fuming.

"You _fucking_ bitch," Arthur spat angrily, all semblance of decorum gone as he fired a warning shot close to her feet. "I will not be cowed by some upstart Kraut! Let alone a deranged colonial!"

"Sir Kirkland!" she heard Captain Smith caution pitifully as he tried peeking out from a set of sandbags. "Get to cover! It's too dangerou-"

"NOT NOW!, Anderson!" the Englishman growled as he reloaded his revolver. All the while keeping his glare on her, his infamously thick eyebrows no less intimidating. "Come on, bloody tart! You've already crossed the line in every moral sense as a military officer. As a NATION! YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS WHAT THE FUCKING REDS DID!"

For a moment, Francesca noticed the wounds, bloodied marks and torn shreds of clothing on her body. Instead, she laughed those and Arthur's words off with a twisted smile. This was her true self, after all. _Ja. Taking more than that to finish me!_

"You speak of madness," she replied mockingly in English, her words at once cold, sensual and feral. "But I - _Nein, we_ were simply doing you a favour, _Mister_ Kirkland. Cleansing this _land_ of the Red menace! And if you intend to stop this crusade, then it's such a shame to cut this right when it's beginning!"

"This is _cleaning_? YOU CALLED MASSACRING ENTIRE TOWNS AND VILLAGES OF INNOCENT CIVILIANS CLEANSING?!" The United Kingdom took a few steps forward as he angrily pointed the gun right in the middle of her eyes. "I don't know what awakened this insanity. But you've _damned_ yourself, New Austria! DAMNED YOUR MEN AND THEIR DESCENDANTS FOR YOUR ACTIONS HERE! Even the Crownland - your precious _dead parents_ will be horrified of what you and your people have become! This charade. ENDS. NOW!"

No words needed to be spoken. She simply grinned, cackling as she lurched forward before lunging with the rifle straight towards the Englishman. The British aide however quickly jumped in the way, the bayonet piercing through his neck. That this mere man managed to keep a defiant gaze at the New Austrian, gasping what sounded like "For England" under his dying breath meant nothing to her.

Nor did it stop her from tossing the fool's body along with the blade-tipped gun to the side like so much trash.

At that point, not even the world mattered.

 _Where were we? Right...YOU...  
_  
"Where is your King and Country now~" she whispered, her voice seemingly echoing as she once more drew closer. " _Die wahre Krieg ist erst begonnen!_ AND YOU SHALL WITNESS IT!"

Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, bullets riddling her body one by one. Neither the sudden jolts nor the screams growing in her head however kept her from lurching onward with a scream, the knife on her hand almost begging for blood. Even as the United Kingdom kept dodging her strikes with unnatural speed. As much as it frustrated her, it made each blow all the more explosion nearby however cut the fight short as she saw him lose balance. It didn't matter either way as he was all she could see. Not when she used the chance to pin him to a crumbling wall.

"You won't get them back! N-Not like this," the United Kingdom cringed as he pitifully raised his revolver once more, only to have his arm stabbed. "N-No. The F-Free World knows what you've done! You'll p-pay for what you've done, bloody _whore_! SEE YOU IN H-"

With one flawless motion from her bloodied blade, Arthur at long last fell silent. And for a moment, a part of the Nation felt the urge to cry. But she didn't know why.

Not when there were so many more out there to cleanse, Reds and traitors alike.

This darkened world was hers for the taking.

 _Ja. Let my Will be done! And I SHALL..._

It was then that she noticed a new wound opening up in her abdomen. Soon followed by several gunshots as a large group of men in grimy uniforms stepped out of the fog of war. Men who, in some other time, she saw as allies. But for all her lingering strength, it didn't take long before the pain came to overwhelm her.

Before she collapsed to the ground, bleeding even as a group of soldiers rushed to impale her with bayonets. _Nein! NEIN! YOU WON'T TAKE..._

 _...take..._

 _Gott, what have...  
_  
At that moment, resisting the urge to scream, Francesca saw clearly for the first time since what seemed like eternity. All she could do however was mouth a few words as a familiar, bespectacled Canadian came into view. Her eyes widened upon seeing a machine gun in his hands.

"Y-You too, Matthew?"

"I'm sorry."

Then, there was silence.

* * *

As for trivia:

The mention of kilt-wearing Scotsmen serving the British forces is a nod to both World War I and World War II, in which there actually _were_ Scottish soldiers who went to battle wearing their kilts with their field uniforms.

England/the UK's aide, Captain Anderson Smith is a direct reference to a RP and collaboration with AufiGirl on dA also set in the RDNA-verse. In fact, parts of the fight are based on the RP as well.

 _Die wahre Krieg ist erst begonnen_ is German more or less for "The true war is just beginning."


	9. 1949: Dual Crowns, Dual Hearts

**Author's Notes:** As a warning though, this chapter is very suggestive and bordering on the explicit if you read too deeply into things. But there's a reason for that, which ties in to the horrid happenings of the previous parts. And as much as it might be sensual, it's also a tad graphic in another sense ("Fan Disservice') and more than a bit bittersweet. Still, as much as I tried to make it as tasteful as possible, I hope you don't mind the bittersweet intimacy.

* * *

 **Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' Eyes**

(Chapter 9: Dual Crowns, Dual Hearts)

Vicinity of Neu Wien, Royal Dominion of New Austria. 17 May 1949.

Loyalist Canada kept quiet as he made his way up the main stairway alongside his host. What made him concerned however wasn't so much the seeming absence of guards or the generations of Habsburg history gazing down from the Residence's walls and winding hallways. Nor was it any fear that New Austria would suddenly lunge and kill him on the spot. _I know her better than that. I think._ Still, he tried shaking his head off those notions and instead focused on the young woman beside him. In her tailored uniform, she walked with both the grace of a noblewoman and the sharp firmness befitting a military officer. But the blue eyes glancing at him seemed like a wild river just crying for release. _Just...remain calm._

"There's no need to keep up formalities," she sighed in English with a soft smile as they at long last reached a particular door. "Matthew, no one's stopping you from speaking. Whatever happens is just between the two of us."

 _Mon Dieu, I do hope so._ "Sorry about that, Francesca," he replied with a forced chuckle as they entered a dimmed bedroom that was most certainly hers. "Guess it's the least I could do after helping me out from that civil war a while back. Though it's rather unusual to hear a request like that from _you_ even on a good day, eh?"

"Well, you're one to talk. Though I'm still thankful for you helping put a stop that American's pathetic attempts to fight me. Not to mention all those other adventures or close calls we've had." A melancholy smile lined her face, however as she looked out the moonlit window, arms crossed. " _Ja_ , we've seen so much over the years. And if all this is making you feel uncomfortable, _bitte_ , understand. After what happened back in those battlefields, not even the Vatican can forgive what I've done. What I lost."

"Perhaps someday the others will understand," he sighed. "Time does fly quite a bit, eh?"

Still, as much as New Austria tried to keep a calm veneer, the Canadian sensed just how worried and distressed she sounded. Just as much as he noticed how beautiful she looked under the moonlight. Which made him all the more nervous under his uniform. _This isn't right. But I never knew she could...Non. Non!_

"Don't take this the wrong way. It - It's been a long time since a woman asked me to stay the night with her. Not since-"

"Katya, _ja_? You forever have my sympathies," she finished for him, catching him off-guard. Despite the faint frown lining the lady's face, she seemed to blush as she stepped closer, her voice growing slightly raspier. "But let's not deny it. We would be lying to ourselves if we think the Terror didn't ravish us all. And we both lost those so dear to us. Including my own - _Gott_ , I hope you forgive me for _this_."

Before he knew it, Matthew suddenly found himself pulled into a deep kiss. His eyes widened as they parted, blushing profusely as she began undoing her white tunic. So many thoughts seemed to swirl in the Nation's head, finding it hard to focus. At once wanting her and wanting to push her away. _Like the whore everyone...NON! I can't..But..._

 _...It wouldn't be fair._

" _Saint sicrisse_ , stop!" he snapped, breathing heavily as he grabbed her free arm. To the Nation's own surprise however, he gently let it go as he slowly moved closer, his hands grazing the fabric of the blushing New Austrian's partially undone tunic. "Let me~"

A part of the Canadian wondered as he slowly removed the garment whether it was the Frenchman in him or the influence of his First Nations, as England would never have approved of it. Still, even as he nimbly undid her skirts and corset, he mused briefly whether Ukraine herself would forgive him if she were still around. With each article of clothing cast off however, his attention remained fixated on the slim, light-tanned body faintly glimmering in the dim light. All the while he swore he heard what sounded like a faint moan. While he had known Francesca as a friend for a long time, it still surprised him how sensual her very being could be.

But as the last of her undergarments fell to the floor, the Nation bit his lip at what he saw. For as much as she was fully exposed to him, so were scars hailing from the still healing English countryside; while their kind could take much more punishment than any person should, it still unnerved him how fresh they almost seemed even after all this time. Here were gashes around her arms and legs, where explosives and bayonets left their mark. All around too laid darkened blemishes where bullets struck through, and faint scratches that he dared not imagine where those came from. As he gazed down at her chest however, he gasped upon seeing a set blots even darker than the rest, each one close to her heart. He knew this all too well, as his mind went back to the final "victory" in London. The exhausted relief in his men as the last Reds were driven out.

The stunned look in her deep eyes as she was put down at last.

 _And I pulled the trigger. Dieu...I killed you.  
_  
"Francesca," he breathed as he tried to shake his head. Only to feel her hands guiding his through her breasts before resting them on her curved back. To his surprise, he noticed how she was already undoing the buttons of his Red Serge tunic.

"I can never replace her," she whispered as she allowed her hair to flow loose. "And you did what was best for all of us. But just this moment, just this once. _Hold me_."

Despite himself, Matthew managed a smile as he brought her into a tight embrace. In the end, both of them were as much broken from the war, turmoil and Terror as anyone who lived through those times. An uncertain future still awaited them. Even the outcome of New Austria's return to the world stage remained an open question. But that could wait. _For now, I just how I - non, we're doing the right thing. Right, Katya?_

" _Oui_. Of course."

* * *

As for some trivia:

 _Saint sicrisse_ is mild Quebecois French swears that are roughly the equivalent of "Christ." This is in sharp contrast to the much harsher _Tabarnak_ , considered the quintessential Quebecois _sacre_.

And as for what happens in that night...I'll leave to your imagination.


	10. 1984: Looking at the Abyss - FIN

**Aut** **hor's Notes:** This is the last chapter! It took quite a few rewrites to get it just right. And as bittersweet as the ending is (and perhaps including more than a few nods to both _1984_ and _Metal Gear_ ), there's still a sense of hope that things will be better, while leaving some room open for the future.

Still, I hope it's been worth it.

* * *

 **Of Loss and Madness**

 **A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' Eyes**

(Chapter 10: Looking at the Abyss)

Outskirts of Dover, England, United Kingdom. 29 May 1984.

"It's quite a sight, eh?"

Stifling back surprise, New Austria glanced at her Canadian host as their car turned right to a small road. No matter how far they were from the rebuilt port town however, the rows of missiles, gun batteries, barbed fences and radio towers continued looming over the landscape. But the traditionally green pastures and gardens Kent was known for remained, radiant in the afternoon sun in spite of the great defenses marring them. Defenses that, despite the naysayers talking about their own country being a glorified airstrip, were necessary to hold back the Reds. _And me_ , the Nation thought with a sigh while adjusting her spring dress. _Never again._ Nonetheless, the Nation allowed a small smile on her face. _Better here at least than London._

"The beauty's still there, Matthew. You just need to look closer," she replied in English just as the vehicle came to a halt near a long-abandoned lighthouse. Stepping out, she noticed a set of weathered posters on the building's walls showing images of her monarchs and flag with the words "Mongrel Krauts" and "Traitor" stamped on. _Typical of them._ But whatever disgust she had as she moved one turned to wonder, almost gasping at the sight of the British coast, the famed White Cliffs as grand as they always had been. "It is a shame though the Archduchess isn't here to see this."

Loyalist Canada chuckled as he walked up alongside her, straightening his hat and tie. Despite his unassuming appearance however, there was no doubt who was truly defending this realm. "I'm sure Her Majesty would. Though it's for the best that she be the one to accept Arthur's tour around the capital instead of you. No offence."

"None taken. Still, not even _our_ goodwill it seems will that pompous gentleman ever forgive me," she sighed with a hint of disappointment. After all, the newly-crowned Anna-Sophie was the first Habsburg monarch to set foot on English soil in over 40 years. Her visit meant to redeem New Austrian's reputation as much as it was to commemorate the Liberation of Britain. Though the legacy of those war-torn days continued to echo in the English countryside, many of those involved were either long dead or dying out with passing year, including the late General Mihaly. _Or killed by my hand here...Gott, keep focused!_ She shrugged ruefully. "If not for you and King Edward IX, I shouldn't even be here."

"Francesca, you're not the monster people here make you to be. You know this! _Mon Dieu_ , he and Alfred can be alike sometimes. Just give them all - and _him_ more time to come around. Hopefully before he gets around to standing on his own feet again, eh?"

" _Ja._ Easier for _you_ to say, though." _But he's right about that. I'm already a monster._

Shaking her head, the Nation turned her eyes towards the Channel. Save for the occasional jet streaking through the skies, great armored dirigibles and patrolling warships of the newest design, it all seemed deceptively pristine. Yet over the horizon, she could just barely make out the massive forts, weapons and slaves of what was once known France. For beyond those waters, the British Imperial Commonwealth - and the Free World - ended and the Collectivist Internationale's domains began. This was not always so however. _Still, the embers refuse to die._ The mere thought of it however was enough to cause her to grip her hands into a tight fist, even as she kept up her impeccable facade.

In these times, few remained to tell of what the world was like before the Reds themselves crossed it for the first and only time, before the throng of refugees escaping the Continent through here dwindled to nothing, before the Terror itself with their own eyes. With each passing minute, those numbers shrank ever more. And neither Francesca nor her fellow Free Nations were any closer to putting an end to the Reds. Not when the specter of atomics on both sides and the damnable Collectivist desire for revolution threatened to plunge the world into a long death. _To bring us all under their Will! Gott, nothing has changed. Nothing!_

 _Yet..._

For a brief glimmer, New Austria found herself reliving the turmoil all those decades ago. As if a faint trace of that same, dark aspect of herself was screaming in her mind. To finish what should have ended back then. _To kill those...Nein!_

 _NEIN! NO MORE!_

The moment passed as quickly as it began, however. Just as she felt male hands gently clasping onto one of hers. _I can't...But...ja, I...I..._

"I wanted my own will to be done," she whispered as she turned to meet the concerned Canadian's bespectacled eyes. "To this day, I still desire retribution. To exact justice to _their_ damned Will. But I was little better in those battles. I saw - _Nein_ , I _became_ madness then. All for revenge."

To her surprise, Loyalist Canada removed his hat and brought her into a warm embrace. Even as she blushed and resisted the urge to cry, the Nation felt at once glad and relieved that she still had a friend in Matthew. Briefly, her mind went back to that one night when they found intimacy with each other, only to shrug the notion off. What happened between them might never come again. _I can never claim what Katya already had._ As they parted, she noticed a knowing look in his eyes, as if he too understood.

"Matthew. After all this time-"

"Perhaps it's in all of us," he replied with a somber smile as he glanced at the Channel, just as another jet passed overhead. "But for our crowns, peoples - for our future, we'll pull through somehow. We _have_ to, Francesca. Together. Though I'm certain the Edelstein-Hedervary name is in good hands, whatever happens."

Stunned for a moment, she managed a soft grin as she turned her gaze to the general direction of where the Austro-Hungarian Crownlands once lived, all while the lights from Dover flickered on. Despite all the bloodshed, the world was not yet lost. Someday, she mused, this endless Cold War would come to a close. The Internationale would have their day and see their Will come crashing down. And so long as New Austria was still able to move on, live and endure, none would find her or her people wanting. Neither would her parents' memory be thrown like ashes into heartless oblivion.

If that meant never finding that sense of peace, fighting that madness in her forever, so be it. _There's so much more left to do._

" _Danke_ ," she murmured while holding on to his free hand. "Whatever happens."

 **-ENDE-**

* * *

As for some trivia:

The County of Kent, England, where the port city of Dover is located, is traditionally known in real life for its green landscapes and lush gardens. It's also home to the White Cliffs of Dover, situated at the narrowest point in the English Channel between Britain and France.

A map showing the state of Western Europe c.2015, but just as applicable in 1984 can be found on DeviantArt.

Speaking of _1984_ , the off-hand comment on one glorified airstrip is a nod to Airstrip One. As are the undertones of the continuing Cold War in that AU.

And yes, the chapter's title is from the lyrics of Mike Oldfield's _Nuclear_ , with a few bits of dialogue and exposition calling back to that song.


End file.
